


Merry Christmas, Love

by constantly_disoriented



Series: It's Holiday Season! (but not really) [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, consumption of butterbeer, i mean like this is pure fluff, if you squinted you could see me crying, so much damn fluff, tiniest bit of angst if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 18:42:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8024848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constantly_disoriented/pseuds/constantly_disoriented
Summary: Harry is moping; Hermione smells bullshit. Everything is good and nothing hurts.aka i wrote this hellas ago and wanted to post it in the middle of september instead of december for some reason sorry





	Merry Christmas, Love

It was the season to be jolly in Hogwarts. The giant trees were up and decorated with a plethora of multi-colored baubles and lights. The grounds were blanketed in a thick layer of pure, sparkling snow. Almost all of the students were at their homes, warm and toasty with their families. They would be eating a feast, or singing carols, or setting up a Christmas tree for the little ones, presents already wrapped and ready.

Harry Potter sat alone in front of the fireplace in Gryffindor Tower, with a wool blanket about his shoulders and a mug of butterbeer in his hand. He was warm all over, mostly because of his own feast in the Great Hall earlier that night, and the three cups of butterbeer he’d downed since. The flames of the fire licked at the logs, and Harry kicked off his slippers in favor of sticking his feet up it.

He didn’t hear the pitter pat of small feet on the floor behind him, but he felt the gentle touch of hands upon his shoulders. Arms, covered in the thick cloth of a sweater only Molly Weasley could fashion, slid around his neck, and a chin came to rest upon his head. He knew who it was before she even spoke.

“What are you doing, moping around on your own?” Hermione asked him softly. He supposed she was trying to tease him a little bit, but the words were hollow; it was more a real question than a joke.

“I’m not moping,” Harry responded quietly, lips turning up at the corners. “I’m just enjoying the quiet.”

Hermione slid down further to rest her head upon his shoulder, arms curling around his chest. Her bushy hair had been tamed into a tight plait that ran below her shoulders, and the strands smelled slightly of her shampoo -- like flowers and ripe fruit. She nuzzled her nose into the crack between the wool blanket and Harry’s skin.

“Liar,” She sighed. “You’re totally moping. What’s wrong?”

Harry chuckled softly, though it sounded emptier than he intended. Hermione wasn’t always the best at picking up other people’s emotions, but Harry was a pretty open book, so it wasn’t difficult to figure out when he was stuck in a gloom.

“It’s nothing, really, Hermione.” He assured, “I’m just a little...I don’t know. Melancholy, I guess. It’s nothing to worry about, I promise.”

Hermione retracted from Harry, and Harry turned his head to look at her as she walked around the couch. She was wearing one of the sweaters Mrs. Weasley made for Harry -- dark green, with a golden “H” stitched into the fabric, and some soft pyjama pants. Her feet were bare, and Harry felt a little sorry for them; the castle floors were cold, even in the summer.

He opened his blanket, a silent invitation for her to join him under the covers, and she slipped in next to him. She tucked her feet up under her, pulled the cover more firmly over herself, and settled down into his side.

“You’re silly, you know that, right?” Hermione whispered, though her voice was fond.

“You only tell me every day.” He teased, earning a chuckle from her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and tucked her more firmly against him before taking another sip of butterbeer.

The firelight did wonders on Hermione, lighting up her hair in just the right ways, accentuating her facial features, and making Harry’s heart squeeze. A pleasant warmth began in his chest and spread throughout his body, tingling in his fingertips and toes. He let himself gaze at her; it was Christmas, and simple pleasures were often hard to find.

They sat in silence for a while, comfortable and warm; staring at the firelight and taking sips from Harry’s mug of butterbeer until it was gone.

“Merry Christmas, Harry.” Hermione whispered sleepily into Harry’s shoulder. He smiled and pressed a soft kiss atop her head.

“Merry Christmas, Hermione.”

**Author's Note:**

> HI!  
> Here's a Christmas fic for yall  
> (even though its like september im sorry im trash)  
> Tell me if anything is wrong or OOC! Constructive criticism is my favorite!!!  
> Thanks for reading!! Have a nice day!! ^-^


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